Words, words, words
by willshakespeare-immortalbard
Summary: My attempt at a 50 words fic: 100 words per drabble, 10 drabbles per chapter, until I get 50 words. All centered around Will and Palamedes, either concerning them (from someone else's POV), or directly featuring them. Rated T for possible triggers, violence, excessive angst, etc. FRIENDSHIP ONLY. Please read/review. Title is a quote from Shakespeare's "Hamlet."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N—I don't own **_**The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel**_**: Michael Scott does. Absolutely nothing belongs to me. **

** Notes: Finally, I've decided to return to writing fanfiction for this fandom. Words can't describe, coming back to it, how much I've missed the Flamel world. Please bear with me, however, as I begin to feel out characters again…it's been a long while. **

** Notes 2: This was written using a random word generator. There is no rhyme, reason, or order to the words, and rarely did I pass over a word once I found a generator that worked for me. **

** Summary: My own take on a 50 words challenge. Each word will be explained by a 100 word drabble (published in sets of 10), and will either discuss something from Will or Palamedes POV, or discuss Will or Palamedes from someone else's POV. Rated T for possible triggers, violence, excessive angst, etc. FRIENDSHIP ONLY. Contains SPOILERS for **_**The Enchantress**_**! Please leave a review—tell me which one you liked best! **

* * *

><p><strong>Parachute<strong>

The leaves fell to the ground below like tiny parachutes. The wind caught them and ballooned them briefly upwards, where they twirled and tumbled with the grace of dancers, waltzing down when they had completed their spin. The ground beneath was invisible, cloaked by clouds, and the parachuting leaves pirouetted toward the smoky depths with more bravery than he could ever possess. They weren't afraid of the emptiness—they swayed into the unknown, completely unafraid.

But he was different. He would not twirl. He would not tumble. He would not waltz, or pirouette, or sway.

He didn't have a parachute.

* * *

><p><strong>Burglary<strong>

It's a crime, burglary.

Scathach can't help but think of burglars when she looks at Shakespeare. He's small—just right for crawling through windows and ventilation shafts; he's clever—smart enough to outsmart security systems and override machinery; he's charming—

And that's where his greatest strength is. He's charming, and everybody (_Palamedes included_) falls head over heels into starry eyed admiration.

Scathach can't help but hate Shakespeare. Before Shakespeare (BS), Palamedes was a warrior; Scathach had a friend. After Shakespeare (AS), Palamedes wasn't Scathach's friend anymore.

It's a crime, burglary.

_Since when has stealing something that isn't yours not been?_

* * *

><p><strong>Grandiose<strong>

The Yggdrasil was grandiose.

Will, despite his awe, couldn't bring himself to like it.

The grandiose had always unnerved him. He had shaken like a leaf when he first set foot in London. He had nearly wet himself when he first set foot in a theater (and not just from excitement). He had nearly passed out when Palamedes first uncovered his eyes and showed him the vast expanse of the junkyard.

The Yggdrasil was more than he could take.

Perhaps it was because—unlike London, the theater, and the junkyard—the Yggdrasil was something grandiose that he could not understand.

* * *

><p><strong>Abduction<strong>

The only word for it was abduction. They had been abducted by anpu—_can't you just say aliens, Palamedes? _(Will would have asked) _It sounds cooler_—and were being transported to some unknown location in a vimana—_a flying saucer; come on, you know that's what it is!_—to be…what?

Scathach would be thinking of a way to escape.

Joan would be listening to her every word.

Francis would be composing a song, trying to incorporate the humming of the vimana engine.

Will would be geeking out about flying saucers, aliens, and whatnot.

Palamedes, however, was just a little worried.

* * *

><p><strong>Divorce<strong>

One of the reasons that Will had decided to go into writing was because of the ability of the fictional to divorce one from reality. At twelve, sweeping Flamel's floors, it was a refuge from disappointment. At sixteen, struggling to capture the heart of a woman determined to shun him, it was a benefit that he utilized. At twenty-two, faced with raising a family on a glover's pay, it was money, and he took it. At thirty-two, reeling from the death a beloved son, it was a refuge from a pain he'd never thought he could experience.

He never left.

* * *

><p><strong>Barricade<strong>

By the time the Saracen Knight met the Bard, both men had ensconced themselves within a barricade.

The Saracen Knight had built his barricade to keep himself from caring for other people; he had built it to keep out the memories of Isuelt and all who had captured his heart and crushed it.

The Bard had built his barricade to keep himself from disappointment; he had built it to keep out the possibility of being both disappointing and disappointed.

Both had built their barricades securely.

It took nearly 200 years for them to figure out how to tear them down.

* * *

><p><strong>Abandoned<strong>

Was it possible to feel abandoned before somebody had left?

It had to be: how else could he name the sudden emptiness that rushed into his heart as he felt Palamedes' fingers tear away from his ankle? How else could he describe the sudden ache that took the place of the knight's hard grip above his the rim of his shoe, pressing through the thin fabric of his sock? How else could he explain the sudden abyss that swallowed his words before he had the chance to speak?

He had never felt so abandoned…so alone. And Palamedes wasn't even gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Mob<strong>

The anpu swarmed around them in a mob, pushing them back to back against each other. Palamedes counted heads as quickly as he could—_one, two, three, four, five, six_—and knew immediately that there was absolutely no way that they could win. There were more anpu than the two of them could take down just within his sight range, and (judging by the sound) there were many, many more behind the first ranks. It was sobering.

"We're not going to win this, are we?" Will asked with forced lightheartedness.

The mob charged before Palamedes had the chance to answer.

* * *

><p><strong>Menace<strong>

"Don't you diss my dog!"

"_Diss your dog_? Will, the creature's an absolute _menace_!"

"Do I complain about _your _animals?"

"T-they're not animals! They're _knights_!"

"Well, they act like animals."

"At any rate, my knights don't bite people."

"Really?"

"Really."

Palamedes edged into the kitchen, praying that the sparring immortals wouldn't see him. _I just want dinner…I just want dinner…I just want—_

No such luck.

"Do me a favor, Palamedes. Smack an ounce of sense into your roommate's head. His dog's a menace."

One look at Will made Palamedes' decision for him.

"I'm more inclined to take Will's side, Baybars."

* * *

><p><strong>Heartless<strong>

Will firmly believed that Scathach had no heart.

He saw it in every action—the way that she fought, killing as if it was engrained in her genes; the way that she could look at a person without ever seeming to see their emotions; the way that she pushed people away from her as if they were poisonous.

It frightened him, to be quite honest.

Palamedes and Scathach were _very similar people_. They were both warriors. They had both seen countless battles, and they had both been scarred by them.

If Scathach was heartless, _what was Palamedes?_

He didn't know.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N—I don't own **_**The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel**_**: Michael Scott does. Absolutely nothing belongs to me. **

** Summary: My own take on a 50 words challenge. Each word will be explained by a 100 word drabble (published in sets of 10), and will either discuss something from Will or Palamedes POV, or discuss Will or Palamedes from someone else's POV. Rated T for possible triggers, violence, excessive angst, etc. FRIENDSHIP ONLY. Contains SPOILERS for **_**The Enchantress**_**! Please leave a review—tell me which one you liked best! **

* * *

><p><strong>Pipe<strong>

"Pipe down, Shakespeare. I'm trying to sleep." Scatty made sure to keep her voice down: she didn't care about Shakespeare enough to fight with him in an enclosed space.

The look that the Bard shot her could only be described as incredibly immature. It was the perfect mix of childish hatred, teenage impertinence, adult awareness; the half pleading glance that he tossed at Palamedes completed it.

"_You _pipe down," Shakespeare snapped.

"Don't, Will," Palamedes warned from his resting position against the vimana's window.

"She started it," Shakespeare insisted.

For a moment all was silent.

And then he piped up again.

* * *

><p><strong>Blessing<strong>

When Tammuz first laid his gloved hand upon Palamedes' head, he had told the knight that immortality would be both his greatest curse and his greatest blessing; he had told the knight that immortality would bring him both his greatest pains and his greatest joys; he had told the knight that immortality would bring him both the best and the worst that the world had to offer.

Palamedes spent centuries experiencing the worst that the world had to give.

It took a long, long time for him to figure out where the best came in.

Francis and Will showed him.

* * *

><p><strong>Crackdown<strong>

The crackdown almost brought them down before they could get up. The mob of anpu dove into the fighting without preliminaries: they didn't catch a breath or settle into a position, and their unannounced attack caught both of them by surprise.

"This…is…insane," Will panted as he pushed an anpu away, trying to get enough room to fire a quick bolt of lemon-scented power at the creature. _If he could just hold out his hands…_

Palamedes shoved his enormous claymore through the anpu that Will pushed away, and Will spared him a quick smile before the knight had to turn away.

* * *

><p><strong>Watch<strong>

Palamedes was glad that he had caught a little bit of sleep in the vimana…because after what had happened in the branches of the Yggdrasil, he wasn't going to sleep.

Will shifted uncomfortably against the wall, where he had fallen asleep despite the hard surface. He moaned softly, whispering "_no_…" in his sleep. Palamedes pulled the Bard over to him and settled the sleeping immortal against his side. After what had happened, the warmth of another human being against him was comforting, and Will needed his comfort right now, in more ways than one.

Palamedes was content watching Will sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Chaotic<strong>

Contrary to the stereotype of playwrights being untidy, messy human beings, William Shakespeare was impossibly meticulous when it came to cleanliness.

Palamedes, on the other hand, was immensely chaotic.

Where Will believed in _shoes by the door _and _dishes in the sink_ and _DVDs put back on the spinner _and _DON'T LEAVE THAT SPILL ON THE FLOOR_, Palamedes subscribed to the exact opposite—_shoes belong wherever you feel like putting them _and _dishes are fine on the table _and _DVDs won't be offended if they're left on the TV stand_ and _THE DOG WILL GET IT!_

Meticulousness versus chaos: friendship.

* * *

><p><strong>Harness<strong>

"_Part of really utilizing your aura is learning to harness that little well of emotion that every human being learns to cordon off." _

"_What if I'm afraid of that part of me?" It came out sounding much more frightened then he'd planned it, and the look that the Doctor spared him expressed perfectly the disgust the older immortal felt with such a childish statement. _

"_You have to learn to be better than your fear, William."_

"_But—" _

"_No buts. You'll have to learn that if you're ever to become anything worthwhile."_

Those were the hardest words for Will to accept.

* * *

><p><strong>Object<strong>

There are some people in the world who possess the harrowing ability to make you feel like nothing more than an object to be used.

Will had met many of those people in his lifetime.

—_Nicholas Flamel, who used the energy of a child for household chores._

—_John Dee, who used the passion of a young man to access a set of twins (__**his children**__)._

There are some things that possess the tormenting ability to make you feel like there is nothing you possess that is anything other than an object to be utilized.

There was nothing Will hated more.

* * *

><p><strong>Hoop<strong>

"What did the hoopmaster want from you this time?" Will asked. Palamedes could see the fire sparking in his eyes—that hint of terrifying power that could cow even Tammuz (which was why he disliked Will so much, if Palamedes was truly honest).

"For me to jump through a few more hoops, of course." It was the ambiguity of the conversation that made it possible for them to discuss Palamedes' master. If they mentioned names, they clashed. Palamedes was _afraid _of Tammuz…but Will _hated _him.

"Of course he did! How high this time? A hundred feet?"

"Higher."

"Your master—"

* * *

><p><strong>Pretend<strong>

Whenever Palamedes' Master calls him away into the shadowrealms, the game of pretend begins.

Will laughs when Palamedes gets the news, and inquires about the hoopmaster's demands; Will smiles as Palamedes leaves and tells him not to jump too high, because falling is always easier (and more painful) than jumping; Will chats over the phone and prattles on about anything and everything that doesn't mention the truth; Will's waiting at the window when Palamedes gets back, and the "hoopmaster" talk happens again, except that this time there's a little less pretending involved in Will's eyes, just visible past his glasses.

* * *

><p><strong>Complete<strong>

"Why do you fight so much?" Will asked Scathach, sitting nervously beside her—(_"You can't hate each other forever,"_ Palamedes insisted); he was trying to bridge the gap.

"Did I ask you to sit by me?" the Warrior asked venomously, glaring at him as if he was something repulsive.

"No; Palamedes did."

"Isn't that lovely?"

He didn't answer; he didn't want to make the problem worse.

"Well, it's lovelier than you are. Still ugly, though."

"You know, I'm trying! You're not!"

Scathach turned. "No, I'm not. Know why, Shakespeare? _Because I don't like you_."

Their feelings were mutual, and complete.


End file.
